Melt
by sidewinder
Summary: Alcohol, ice cream, and Friday night at the end of a rough week. One thing leads to another. (Fin/Munch, established relationship, pure M-rated amusement. Don't like, don't read!)
_Author's note/disclaimer: Characters property of NBC/Dick Wolf. Written purely for (kinky) fun and not for profit; inspired by a post on the "textsfrommunchandfin" blog at Tumblr._

* * *

"Please tell me you didn't lose your keys."

"Don't worry, I've got 'em," Fin assured John, padding at one pocket of his leather coat, then another. Then trying his pants. Fin frowned. "Uh...somewhere."

"I certainly hope so, considering you're not looking too steady at the moment." John felt a little wobbly himself, and not simply from helping to keep Fin on his feet. He prayed that his partner hadn't somehow lost his keys on the subway or all the way back at the bar.

"I'm fine. And look, keys." Fin held them up triumphantly in front of John's face after finally locating them in his back pocket.

"Very good. Now, can we hurry up about inserting those keys into the door locks before us, instead of in my face? I've needed to take a piss for the last thirty minutes and I'd prefer not to do it here outside your building. I'm sure your neighbors would agree."

"Why didn't you go back at the bar before we left?"

"Have you seen the bathroom at that place? You could pick up a half-dozen communicable diseases just being within ten feet of that literal shithole."

Blessedly Fin wasn't _that_ inebriated, and it only took two fumbling attempts to get the right key in the right lock to get the apartment building door open. John let out a sigh of relief and kept an arm about Fin's waist as they climbed the stairs up to his floor.

Clearly they'd had one round too many that evening...or maybe two. Or three, to be honest. But it was Friday night and the gang from the 16th had hit the bar with a vengeance only reserved for the conclusion of a particularly ugly case—and when they had a weekend off ahead of them to nurse the resulting hangovers. They'd all worked hard for more than a week to bring in a serial rapist/murderer who was now, thankfully, behind bars and should be staying there for the rest of his life. Fin had cursed how he'd love to put a needle in the bastard's arm, but John could live with the man getting decades of prison justice instead. Death sometimes seemed too easy a way out for these scumbags after all the pain they caused and left behind.

John could also live with the sweet blessed relief that came from finally emptying his bladder in Fin's bathroom once they were inside his apartment. Bumpy, jerky subway rides were not pleasant to begin with and were brutal when you really needed to take a leak. Feeling better now and more than ready to relax for a few days, he left his jacket and tie in the bedroom before joining Fin in the living room. Fin had made himself comfortable as well and was flipping through the channels on his large television.

"Great, we didn't miss the last quarter," he announced once he found the basketball game they'd been watching at the bar before leaving.

"Is there any ice cream left?" John asked.

"Probably, check the freezer. How are you still hungry after that huge steak you put away tonight?"

"Just craving something sweet to finish my quest for complete carbohydrate overload." He also hoped that the sugar and fat in the ice cream might help absorb some of his alcohol buzz, which was just this side of too much to be pleasant at the moment.

Checking in the kitchen, he was pleased to find most of a pint of Ben & Jerry's _Dulce Delish_ in Fin's freezer. Grabbing a large spoon from the dish rack, John brought the ice cream out to the living room, then sat down on the sofa close beside Fin.

"Where's my spoon?" Fin asked, eyeing John as he kicked off his shoes and dug in for his first taste.

"Didn't tell me you wanted any. Don't worry, we can share."

"My ice cream, bet your ass we're gonna share it."

John scooped out another spoonful of the ice cream and held it out before Fin's lips. Fin raised an eyebrow in an expression he'd surely learned from hanging around with John for far too many years. "What are you now, a momma bird feeding her baby bird?"

"If that were the case, Fin, I'd have to macerate the food first and feed it to you mouth-to-mouth."

"That sounds hot." Fin took the offered spoon full of ice cream from John.

"You sound drunk." Which wasn't necessarily a _bad_ thing, as far as John was concerned. A little alcohol and Fin usually loosened up considerably, became more adventurous—sometimes even a little kinky in regards to activities in the bedroom.

Or the couch. Or the car. Or the back alley behind the bar if he couldn't wait until they got to one or the other's place of residence.

John took another, larger spoon of ice cream from the container, but he didn't swallow it, instead holding the frozen cream in his mouth as he turned toward Fin. He leaned in for a kiss and met Fin's slightly parted lips with his tongue, letting the ice cream in his mouth melt between them. Fin swirled some of it onto his own tongue and their kiss deepened, until Fin finished it by licking away the sweet cream melting onto John's lips.

"See? Hot," Fin said.

"Technically cold," John corrected, although he didn't complain when Fin took the spoon from him, scooped up some ice cream to hold in his own mouth, and moved in to kiss John in return. The kiss was sloppy, cool, refreshing and more of a turn-on than John would have thought. Maybe it was just because of the alcohol buzz. He could feel heat pooling in his belly and his groin even as the cold ice cream threatened to give him a brain freeze.

"You taste good," Fin murmured, licking John's lips once more.

"You taste like rum-raisin. How many _Cuba Libres_ did you have tonight, anyway?"

"Don't remember. But I want to try something else right now. 'Sides kissing."

"Am I going to like it?"

"Only one way to find out." Fin pushed John back on the sofa, and then got down on his knees on the floor between John's legs. He wasted no time reaching for John's belt, fumbling to open it and swatting John's hands away when he tried to offer assistance.

"Fin, I appreciate your amorous intentions but if you don't let me help this could take several hours given your current state of intoxication."

"Shut up, John."

John distracted himself with another spoon full of ice cream.

Fin eventually managed to loosen the buckle and undo John's belt, then moved on to the top button of his pants. As impatient as John was, he did love it when Fin insisted on undressing him, removing his clothes like an eager child unwrapping an anticipated present. He assisted by lifting his hips slightly once the button and zipper were undone, allowing Fin to easily pull down his pants and boxer shorts, tossing them aside on the floor.

John undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt, just enough to reveal the white undershirt he wore beneath. Fin watched him with a heavy gaze and John knew he approved; Fin liked him like this, half undressed, a little disheveled, and wholly hot and bothered. Fin had said as much during one of their overnight stakeouts where they'd challenged each other to out-dirty talk the other as a method to stay awake. Fin rubbed his hands over John's bare thighs and the hunger in his eyes made John's cock swell to near full arousal, before Fin had even touched him there...or done anything else.

"Gimme that ice cream."

John handed over the container readily, although he was a touch apprehensive. He had a feeling this was going to be either really good or something they'd vow to never mention again in the other's presence.

Fin took a large spoon full of ice cream, and seemed to hold it in his mouth for a long moment before swallowing. He then licked at the tip of John's cock, causing him to draw in his breath in anticipation. That first touch of Fin's tongue was electric as always, if not appreciatively cooler than normal. Fin's mouth warmed quickly to full heat as he continued to lick and suck at John's penis until he was completely hard and eager for more—cold, hot, or any temperature in between.

John watched as Fin pulled back momentarily to take another spoon full of ice cream from the carton. This time he didn't wait for it to melt or to swallow it before continuing; he opened wide to take John's cock while still holding the ice cream there, against the roof of his mouth. John gasped and shuddered at the much more intense sensations this time, the cold of the ice cream and burning heat of Fin's tongue enveloping him at the same time. Fin made it even worse by moaning around John's cock as he sucked, adding vibration to the contrasting temperature sensations.

Fin kept sucking, licking and swallowing, until everything became a familiar warm heat that had John murmuring words of lust and approval. Fin regretfully released him after a time, taking a teasing break to place licks and kisses on the tender skin of John's inner thigh. "How'd you like that, baby?"

"Mmm, I'm not sure...maybe you'd better...try that again...so I can give a proper evaluation of your technique." John's words came slowly as he was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than Fin's mouth, and wanting it back on his cock, ice cream coated or not.

Fin obliged him, taking another large helping of ice cream before doing so. Once again the cold-hot contrast shocked John, even as he knew it was coming, what to expect this time around. The icy chill didn't hurt like he worried it might, although it did seem to momentarily squelch the intensity of his state of arousal. That returned, however, and more accutely than before as the ice cream again melted and Fin swallowed it down, hungrily, greedily, his lips and tongue heating up as he continued pleasuring his lover.

Fin repeated the process three, four more times...maybe more, John lost count. Counting was difficult when he was more than somewhat drunk, and Fin was sucking his cock, and it felt so good he just wanted to sink into the sofa and stay there for hours, almost reaching orgasm but then being cut short of release by the sudden blast of freezing cold. He'd had lovers before who'd been quite skilled at oral gratification, but none who had ever played this dirty little trick on him before.

He was going to make sure Fin _never_ was out of ice cream _ever_ after tonight.

Eventually Fin seemed to take pity on him—or perhaps he'd finished off the last of the Ben & Jerry's. He let the last mouthful melt away as he deep-throated John, taking him fully into his mouth, then moaning around him again until John joined him, a few octaves higher and not in perfect pitch by a long shot. But what did he care, anyway. Ice-cream enhanced blow jobs brought on one hell of an orgasm, and surely Fin's neighbors had to be used to his more vocal performances by now.

Fin climbed back up onto the sofa, straddling John and taking his mouth for a slow, sweet, salty and still a little boozy kiss. "You taste filthy and I love it," John sighed happily.

"Love _you_." A loud buzzing came from the television and Fin glanced over his shoulder, cursing under his breath that he'd missed the end of the game. "Shit, who won?"

"Like I was paying attention to anything but you between my legs for the past who knows how long?" John reached up to caress the back of Fin's head, his buzz-cut hair, momentarily missing the old ponytail that he still sometimes grasped for during sex, the sensation of his long hair like a ghost taunting his fingertips. "I'd say kinky weird ice cream head beats basketball any night of the week. Is there enough left to allow me to return the favor?"

"Got something else I'm craving myself, but not here." Fin nuzzled and nipped at John's ear. "Want to fuck you hard. Bedroom. Now."

When Fin had _that_ tone in his voice, John knew he'd be lucky if he could walk straight the next day—not that he was complaining, provided the captain didn't call them in for any kind of emergency in the morning. "As long as the ice cream goes back in the freezer and nowhere near any other part of my anatomy tonight, you can take me any way you want me, my dear Fin."

"Deal."


End file.
